


Feeling Wanted

by GrendelGrowls



Category: Warframe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Image, Identity Issues, Light Angst, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Other, Recovered Memories, Repressed Memories, Sexual Fantasy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrendelGrowls/pseuds/GrendelGrowls
Summary: Ordis returns to his datascape to bask in the memories of his past, deciding to experience his history from a very... biological point of view.
Relationships: Cephalon Ordis/Himself?, Ordan Karris/Himself?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Feeling Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little experiment with a concept that I quite liked. Maybe it's not everybody's cup of tea, but I had the idea last night and my brain wouldn't let me go another 24 hours without writing it. I might expand on this later, if I feel confident up to it.
> 
> The person who originally suggested Ordan to me on Twitter knows who they are, so I hope this appeals to you at least a little bit!

Ordis couldn't really help himself.

The problem with being what he was - less than perfect - made him desire that perfection even harder. At first, back during his original term of service as a Cephalon, this hadn't been much of a concern, because perfection was barely even a relevant concept to him. Within the golden halls of the Orokin and aboard the opulent ship of his Operator, he felt his very being soothed by just how grand everything had become. If one could not perfect their appearance, then their clothing, their decor, even their status, almost anything else could compensate for it.

That had been a long, long time ago.

His own datascape didn't offer much in the way of this perfection anymore. A third of it was almost gone, dedicated to storing a shattered fragment of a world and a life that he no longer owned, while the remaining two thirds existed purely as an isolated space for his mind. To the Operator, Ordis was always there watching, but that couldn't be further from the truth. When he wasn't needed or had downtime, he would retreat to the deep-blue void that he had created and simply sit there to watch the distant streams of data pass by.

It wasn't silent, though. The Beast of Bones was always there, like it or not. When he left the datascape and focused his attention on other matters, it would subside, but the knowledge that those memories still exited as cuttings of a larger whole never stopped tugging at him. At this point, they were hardly even the same person anymore, if he could even be considered a person in this state.

Maybe he would ask the Operator about that later, come to think of it. Ordis had never thought about what he counted as, since the Orokin had made it fairly clear during his... _creation_. Cephalons, by and large, existed to serve, after all.

This time, his retreat into the realm of data wasn't entirely out of sadness, but out of a longing. Even with his memories fragmented and partially wiped to create his current self, glimpses of the past still shone through like light through the trees of a thick forest, giving him small pockets of his former self. Over time, he had begun to piece them together, using the datascape's malleable nature to form - in his mind - an accurate reconstruction of who Ordan Karris was. Just like himself, it was incomplete.

Staring into the darker third of his datascape, the one that seemed cracked and jumbled from the outside, he allowed himself a moment to see through the madness and bring out that perfection once more. _Ordan Karris, the Beast of Bones_. A man so perfect in his brutality and flawless in his hatred of the Orokin that he had been locked away and essentially destroyed, never to return as a whole. The Cephalon couldn't remember it all, but brief flashes of that other life were more than enough to slowly build up a picture of the man behind the name.

Tall. Muscular. Scarred, probably heavily, definitely around the chest and arms. These were all just guesses born from the piecemeal data that still roamed free, but with each new point that entered his mind added another layer to the muddy image. Within moments, what had begun as a simple mass of concepts was able to take shape within the datascape, a crude replica of the long-gone mercenary. Not in front of Ordis, but around him, as his own body. A simulation designed to give him at least the smallest taste of Oran’s existence and life, something that he had been working on ever since Simaris' breakthrough with Synthesis technology.

Looking down, he could see the data swirling around, taking on a humanoid form. It was vague at best, perhaps even incorrect compared to the truth of Ordan's self, but it didn't matter to Ordis, because that wasn't what he had come here for. He wanted more than to _see_ , but to _experience_.

A few mental commands wormed their way through his digital space, drawing in every possible corrupted file and tearing out the useful details. The definition on the warrior's scarred and beaten chest grew more realistic, and the arms that slowly appeared at his sides were gently adjusting to suit the proportional changes. This _was not_ Ordan, not by a long shot, but nothing ever would be. 

The last thing to form, aside from some vague reconstructions of the human leg structure to make the body's shape fit, was the part that Ordis had intentionally delayed. Being a Cephalon, many experiences were difficult to comprehend, but instinct still remained where the Orokin had been unable to snuff it out with their corrupting touches. It was, in clinical terms, the mercenary's penis, an element that the ship Cephalon had felt no connection to for countless years.

A nervous glance to either side - completely unnecessary in his private space, but done out of sheer impulse - confirmed that there was nobody to watch. Feeling the false heart beat slightly faster within his false chest, Ordis took one of the strong arms and used its thick hand to gently reach down, grabbing the... _cock, that was what they called it?_ It had been far too long for him to remember, but it felt correct. Crude, but correct.

It was larger than he had expected. The same could be said for the rest of the body, but even in its current state, it was a surprising discovery. Unsure of how to proceed, he took a deep simulated breath and felt the natural movements of his non-existent body, basking in the scene before him. His eyes felt scared, as if they were not supposed to be doing this, but the back of his brain gently pressed on the part that wanted to know more. _See_ more.

And so, he created a mirror. A simple datascape construct formed from the literal building blocks of the space's many empty platforms, something that took barely any power or attention to manage. Through the reflective portal, he could see much more of himself - the raw strength behind the arms at his sides, the imposing way that his chin connected to his cheeks, even the simple details like the fair that radiated an aura of a seasoned fighter. He saw all of Ordan Karris, or at least the version of Ordan Karris that existed at present, and a sensation that had been absent for decades bubbled up to the forefront of his thoughts.

Below his slim, solid waistline, particular muscles pulled and tensed. A spark sprung to life in his gut, and before he was able to comprehend what was happening, a hazy sensation built up between his eyes as his hand began to gently move over the member's surface. It was a carnal desire that he no longer fully understood, but his eyes wandered to their mirror once more, and he saw himself - more accurately, Ordan - standing there, cock in hand and face full of a strange pleasure that he couldn't articulate with words.

Multiple processes began at once. The simulated breath became faster and more rushed, matching the thumps in his chest. The soft grip of his palm quickly summoned a heat in his lower half that drew a low moan out of the Cephalon, backed by a lust-filled sigh that rose up from the depths. For a mere fraction of a second, more flashed back into his brain, only to be washed away in the warmth. His eyes shut as he gave his hand permission to continue, the slow stiffening forcing him to carefully bite his lip.

_I used to look like this..._

Some of the murky darkness had become clear again, and he thought back to the days of the Orokin Empire. Himself, clad in nothing but bone-plugs and the sash of his current employer, standing before a host of other mercenaries both male and female who were under his command. The constant displays of interest from those around him, who shied away when his eyes made contact but struggled to keep their gazes away for very long. The anonymous notes, handwritten and sealed with wax stamps of varying designs, that outlined each and every fantasy his secret admirers had over his body. He had been _wanted_ physically, _desired_ even.

His breath faltered for a moment as the strokes of his hand sound a comfortable pace, his systems fully leaning into the false body that he had created. His eyes shot open again, landing back on the mirror and the giant of a man who lay within. That body, that man, that was _him_ at his most desirable, his most _perfect_.

The idea excited him more than he had expected. His own touch, even through this body of pure data, felt electric. Ordan Karris was a secret to most, but in the moment, he wanted nothing more to regain that form and make full use of the palpable sexuality that it offered. Data was streaming through his brain, but he wasn't cataloguing it like usual - it slipped away to his mental buffer, leaving his consciousness to focus on his own wants.

With every soft stroke and stiffening muscle, more pieces of life as the mercenary returned. They were very little, mere specks of history that brought up only one or two details, but many of them only accentuated the way that Ordan had been perceived during his life. Orokin nobles, people who had the authority to kill him on the spot, had sat kneeling at his feet and pushing their bodies to the limit in the name of pleasuring a warrior such as him. He had almost always been the one holding the leash, the one on top, the one who gave the orders.

They had all wanted him. The concept of such a thing, of being desired to such a degree that aristocrats and socialites would physically grovel for a chance to sample his body themselves, it caused an intoxicating _need_ within him. It was a filthy feeling, something beyond a simple desire to have that kind of physical satisfaction that has been gone for so long. As his length fully hardened, he found himself unable to stop, muttering under his breath without thinking about the words themselves.

"O-Ordan Karris... the... I was..." An excited sigh broke through, followed by a small, airy cry as the skin around his shaft grew more sensitive and the muscles beneath reached their apex. "They all wanted me..."

His other hand began to tense and un-tense, forming a clawed half-fist that didn't know what it should be doing. His well-formed legs, equally un-used to dealing with this much physicality, also found themselves trying to stretch and contract to help burn off some of the overwhelming gratification he was delivering to himself. This eagerness, this tension, all of it was drawing up more and more frantic thoughts.

Ordan's memories continued, but they began to bleed into this own, mixing together and allowing him to pluck out the ones that mattered.

He saw himself and a slimmer Orokin, a very attractive man, supine on a bed that he didn't recognise. The other man was whining and begging for Ordan's body, struggling to contain himself. Through Ordan's past, could see his own lower half gently sinking into the man's own, feeling the heat and warmth of their skin contact as well as the sudden force on his cock from the gentle entry. It wasn't real, but that didn't change the way that it took his breath from his mouth, dragging a long groan out of his throat.

He saw himself with a pair of beautiful former slaves, a man and a woman, one on each arm, escorting him through the opulent halls of an Orokin tower. Their hands were splayed across his chest, gently caressing his muscular build while their rather revealing outfits left very little to his imagination. In their eyes, he could see strong heat, a reminder that they were going somewhere isolated to enjoy each other's company.

He saw himself with one of his closest mercenary friends, the two exchanging intense looks of fiery emotion as the person between them served as their source of release. He could not tell their sex at a glance, but the result was the same - pure pleasure, a sweet feeling of being satisfied in a way that only the most irresistible beings would experience.

He saw himself in his own mirror, within his datascape, one hand frantically pushing him closer and closer to release. Despite himself, Ordis could do little but enjoy the sight of what he used to be, understanding why that body had become such a symbol. It wasn't just his own strength, but the imperfect perfection. All of those images and dozens more were burned into his mind, replaying over and over again as the torturous desires grew more and more unbearable.

Another glance at the mirror turned into a long stare as the Cephalon's eyes fell on his own form, seeing it as the Beast of Bones himself watching from afar: an idea that did little to stem his intense wants. Clenching his free fist, he hunched forward and turned his gaze back towards his own waist, watching the fast rhythm of his palm and fingers as it brought more and more incendiary sparks of arousal into his chest.

Reaching deeper into Ordan's memories to satisfy his need for more self-gratification and lustful praise, he found remnants of phrases and sentences that had stuck with his former self. _Fucking hot. Perfectly sculpted. I would let him take me away as his pet. I want you to destroy me, Ordan. I need you, Ordan. I want you, Ordan_.

"I want you, O-Ordan..."

Ordis didn't know who he was saying it to, but it was true. He wanted it all back, that perfect body, that desirability, that power to have the mighty crawling over you as a submissive servant of your lust. It wasn't fair, he needed it back, he deserved it all. Or maybe he wanted to be on the receiving end, he couldn't tell. He just knew that thinking about it was driving him wild, pulling a surge of heavily-suppressed impulses out from somewhere that he had hidden them long ago.

Nobody could ever have Ordan Karris ever again, because the man no longer existed.

Except Ordis. He _was_ Ordan Karris. He was single closest person to one of the most desirable, controversial, and taboo men in history, and nobody could ever break that. Even if some of the Beast of Bones' former lovers or flings still lived, they would still never be as close to Ordan as Ordis was, and that made him the most important being in that warrior's entire life.

Ordis was just a humble ship Cephalon, but he - and he alone - had access to what remained of Ordan Karris, free to enjoy whenever he pleased. By extension, that meant that Ordan Karris _had him_. The pair were intertwined, interlinked, forever bound to one another. Every erotic memory, every twitch of his body as pulses of orgasmic electricity surged through him, they were Ordis' and Ordis' alone to enjoy.

Both sides of his brain reached their climax at once, and the sound that the Cephalon made was like nothing he had ever said before. Not in his lifetime, at least.

Feeling his body try to jerk in multiple directions at once, he squeezed his eyes shut, riding the shockwaves and ripples with a sea of moans, curses, and cries for the Beast of Bones. He didn't notice when it ended, because it took at least another full processing cycle for his mind to even think clearly, let alone process what had just happened.

A small grunt of surprise, mixed with a heavy breath, left his digital body. Letting he free hand write in the open air, he tried to remain silent, occasional noises pushing up out of the mixed emotions that pooled and flowed through the entirety of his being. He felt every muscle motion and every wave of pleasure as if it was the first time all over again, because in a twisted way, it was.

When the heat faded and the thump of his fake heart began to calm, he said nothing and did nothing. All Ordis felt capable of was moving his eyes, and he glanced down at the floor of the datascape beneath him, unsure if he was ashamed or just confused. A thousand questions surfaced, and a thousand were quashed within moments. Instead, he raised up the hand that had been used to pleasure himself in such a crude manner, moving it around in front of his own face like he had never seen one before.

"I... "

His body felt a need to say something, but his brain would not comply. In relative silence and with little to do but breathe, the Cephalon remained in that form, staring into his palm with a fervour that he could not comprehend. Drips of Ordan's history still slipped their way in, overshadowed by the static filling his brain. The digital body faded, unable to be sustained in such conditions, and he found the lingering glow even harder to understand without a form that could accommodate it. Everything that had brought him to this point, all of the memories and feelings that came from his past self, were sucked back to the part of the datascape that remained hidden from the world.

Eventually, the mirror dispersed too. Ordis simply... remained there, his thoughts unsure and slightly unbelievable. All he could focus on was Ordan, or at least the fleeting details of the physical shape that no longer remained. That, too, quietly disappeared from his short-term memory as more and more of his normal functions began to scream at him for attention.

It only took a few more minutes - in real time, not his processing time - to shake off what remained of the strange diversion and take up the next task that had been set out by his Operator. Even with the nagging feeling that he was missing something, he decided that it was best to get back to work.

If there was one thing he had learned as a ship Cephalon, it was that your Operator always wanted you.


End file.
